


My Demonic Valentine

by OnABadBet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King Sam, Consort Dean, Crack, Hellhounds, M/M, Schmoop, Valentine's Day, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnABadBet/pseuds/OnABadBet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gives Sam a hellhound puppy for Valentine's Day. Sam is unimpressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Demonic Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> I...this was supposed to be crack. It was. Except now I desperately want the boys raising a hellhound puppy and I _possibly_ smell a 'verse forming.

Sam can't do anything but stare, squinting at the thing by his feet until Dean kicks him in the ankle. He blinks and looks up. "Er, what?"

"I said 'be my Valentine.' Jackass."

"Yeah, no, I caught that part," Sam says absently. "I just -- what _is_ it?"

Dean shrugs one shoulder and sits on the edge of the bed, elbow nudging up against Sam's side. "You've always wanted a dog, right?" He gestures broadly with his hands. "Well, there you go."

"Dean, that's --" He glances down again. The thing bares its teeth at him, bone-white tail wagging and red eyes gleaming. Sam grimaces. "I'm not an expert, man, but I'm pretty sure that's not a dog."

"Sure it is. You're a good dog. Right, boy?"

It swivels its head, preternaturally quick (and really fucking disturbing, thanks very much), and pins its ears flat to its skull, lip curled up at Dean.

"Girl?" he tries. Its ears perk up and it's showing less teeth. Less teeth is good. "Yeah, okay. Girl." Dean nods at the thing and gives Sam a slightly strained smile. "See? She's a good girl."

"I...Dean." Sam watches the thing for a moment before he jerks back, eyes snapping to his brother. "She's a hellhound." He pauses. "You brought me a _hellhound_? For _Valentine's Day_?"

"Hey, if you're embracing your inner antichrist --"

Sam balks and Dean holds his hands up defensively. "No, look, it makes sense."

"In what universe does this --" Sam drags a hand through his hair and breathes deep. "Dude, you're terrified of hellhounds. And we can't exactly bring her with us on hunts. She'd try to eat the civilians."

Dean shrugs again. "She's not so bad. Kind of little, still. Less, um, bloodthirsty. You could train her." He watches the hound as it wanders away from them, stalking idly around the room with a kind of chilling grace belied by its too-big paws. "And we're the only ones who can see her, you know? Civvies aren't so much with the hell-goggles. Exclusive to the boy king and his consort, or -- whatever-the-fuck they said. Consort, my ass."

"And when she gets bigger?"

"How the fuck is that my problem?" Dean says. "Won't be _my_ demonic pitbull. You're the antichrist, buddy. You get to keep her in line."

"Thanks so much," Sam mutters.

"Don't mention it, little brother." Dean wraps his arm around Sam and claps him on the shoulder, giving a brief squeeze as he pulls away. He stands up and takes a step before stopping and glancing back down at Sam. "You, um. You don't totally hate her, right?"

Sam watches as the hellhound pads back over and presses against his leg. A vague chill trembles up his body at the contact and she curls up next to his feet, bright eyes cracked open and locked on Sam like she's waiting for the verdict.

"No," Sam murmurs. "She's good, Dean."

Dean gives a jerky nod, hesitates, bends down to press a hard kiss to Sam's temple. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sammy."


End file.
